sent both guys on that call because there was vandalism to headstones at the old Ash Ave cemetery and I thought they could share the paperwork since the fire and damage are probably related."
"So, is that it?" Erin rose to her feet.
"Yup," he grunted. She was about to scurry past him when she reconsidered, and stopped.
"Sooo," she said again, drawing the sound out unbearably long. He looked up, surprised, and more than a bit suspicious.
"What are you after, Ericsson?" His brow furrowed and his lips pulled back against his teeth.
"I wanted to tell you that I heard Ryan and Mark talking the other day and they are really looking forward to you being transferred to our crew." The lies cemented the end of her tongue like grade one Papier-Mache paste.
"Really?" One side of his grin nudged higher. "And what about you, Erin?" He came up to his full height in front of her. "Are you excited?"
"Couldn 't be happier." A little piece of her shriveled inside.
He held her gaze a moment longer and his frown relaxed. He settled his weight back onto the side of the desk.
"Now that we're all happy here, whaddyawant?" Sarcasm slithered underneath his words.
"I hear you 've closed the Peterson arson case already," she said.
"Arson, nobody said arson."
Unfortunately, Derek was not only her supervisor for the day, he was also lead investigator on the Dolores Johnson case and Erin wanted information. She remembered that she needed to tread lightly with his high-school-football-star ego.
"That was really fast work." She stretched out the adjectives. Running a hand slowly through her hair, she tilted her palm toward Derek.
He took the bait. His eyes moved to her hand and then predictably downward, lingering on the soft skin at her throat and the curve of breast beneath her shirt. Every professional interviewer worth her salt knows this as a palm flash, but Derek still fell for the feminine distraction like a teenage boy. Not that she often used it, but she had to admit it worked. She angled her head slightly and the effect was complete.
"Yeah," he said. The edge dropped off his attitude and he sucked his gut in another inch.
"How did you do that so fast?" she murmured. "You must know all the right people at the crime lab. Did the tests come back already?"
"Uh, I didn 't see the need to—"
"Really? Are the forensic guys all done? There were no signs of accelerants? No forced entry?"
"Fire guys said no accelerants, but the whole place was burned to a crisp—"
"The stove was tampered with. Was the gas line checked?"
"The old lady musta left it on." His tone was dismissive and she backed off. She did not want to be so assertive that he withheld information.
"What about the autopsy? That could not be complete yet."
"Nope. In case you haven't noticed lately, the Medical Examiner's Office is as cash-strapped as we are. They won't spring for unnecessary procedures. Absolutely nothing out there says it wasn't a tragic accident, so there was no need for an autopsy. The remains were released to her family yesterday and they are going to cremate her today. She was already mostly cooked anyhow." He stifled a laugh, puffing out a bit of air in the process, and his belly drooped back over his belt.
Erin 's narrowed her eyes at him. He caught her look and his grin disappeared. Graveyard humor did not apply to people you actually knew.
"I get that you liked her, but she was a nutty old broad," he said more softly. "She 'd been phoning in reports of phantom intruders for the last three months and there was never a shred of evidence. Seriously, once she reported someone broke in and stole two slices of cheese. That's whacked. She was clearly losing her marbles. Maybe her kids should have put her in a home."
"Did you do a full search of the surrounding area?" She knew she was pushing her limit.
"Search the bog? That's impossible. What goes in, stays in. We were at the scene for six hours. You don't think we are bright enough to notice anything
"So, is that it?" Erin rose to her feet.
"Yup," he grunted. She was about to scurry past him when she reconsidered, and stopped.
"Sooo," she said again, drawing the sound out unbearably long. He looked up, surprised, and more than a bit suspicious.
"What are you after, Ericsson?" His brow furrowed and his lips pulled back against his teeth.
"I wanted to tell you that I heard Ryan and Mark talking the other day and they are really looking forward to you being transferred to our crew." The lies cemented the end of her tongue like grade one Papier-Mache paste.
"Really?" One side of his grin nudged higher. "And what about you, Erin?" He came up to his full height in front of her. "Are you excited?"
"Couldn 't be happier." A little piece of her shriveled inside.
He held her gaze a moment longer and his frown relaxed. He settled his weight back onto the side of the desk.
"Now that we're all happy here, whaddyawant?" Sarcasm slithered underneath his words.
"I hear you 've closed the Peterson arson case already," she said.
"Arson, nobody said arson."
Unfortunately, Derek was not only her supervisor for the day, he was also lead investigator on the Dolores Johnson case and Erin wanted information. She remembered that she needed to tread lightly with his high-school-football-star ego.
"That was really fast work." She stretched out the adjectives. Running a hand slowly through her hair, she tilted her palm toward Derek.
He took the bait. His eyes moved to her hand and then predictably downward, lingering on the soft skin at her throat and the curve of breast beneath her shirt. Every professional interviewer worth her salt knows this as a palm flash, but Derek still fell for the feminine distraction like a teenage boy. Not that she often used it, but she had to admit it worked. She angled her head slightly and the effect was complete.
"Yeah," he said. The edge dropped off his attitude and he sucked his gut in another inch.
"How did you do that so fast?" she murmured. "You must know all the right people at the crime lab. Did the tests come back already?"
"Uh, I didn 't see the need to—"
"Really? Are the forensic guys all done? There were no signs of accelerants? No forced entry?"
"Fire guys said no accelerants, but the whole place was burned to a crisp—"
"The stove was tampered with. Was the gas line checked?"
"The old lady musta left it on." His tone was dismissive and she backed off. She did not want to be so assertive that he withheld information.
"What about the autopsy? That could not be complete yet."
"Nope. In case you haven't noticed lately, the Medical Examiner's Office is as cash-strapped as we are. They won't spring for unnecessary procedures. Absolutely nothing out there says it wasn't a tragic accident, so there was no need for an autopsy. The remains were released to her family yesterday and they are going to cremate her today. She was already mostly cooked anyhow." He stifled a laugh, puffing out a bit of air in the process, and his belly drooped back over his belt.
Erin 's narrowed her eyes at him. He caught her look and his grin disappeared. Graveyard humor did not apply to people you actually knew.
"I get that you liked her, but she was a nutty old broad," he said more softly. "She 'd been phoning in reports of phantom intruders for the last three months and there was never a shred of evidence. Seriously, once she reported someone broke in and stole two slices of cheese. That's whacked. She was clearly losing her marbles. Maybe her kids should have put her in a home."
"Did you do a full search of the surrounding area?" She knew she was pushing her limit.
"Search the bog? That's impossible. What goes in, stays in. We were at the scene for six hours. You don't think we are bright enough to notice anything
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